


Midnight Call

by Annaelle



Series: CS drabbles/oneshots [2]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Plot, oneshot written loooong time ago, season two, what plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-25
Updated: 2015-01-25
Packaged: 2018-03-09 00:36:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3229613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Annaelle/pseuds/Annaelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>ONESHOT - What if Emma was on patrol when Tamara and Greg met up to unwrap their 'package'? <br/>SPOILERS FOR 2x19 "Lacey"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Midnight Call

Emma sighed and ran a hand through her hair.

The graveyard shift was _boring_ in Storybrooke. Nothing ever happened here; and if it did, there usually wasn’t much _she_ could do about it.

She parked the cruiser by the side of the road and yawned deeply, feeling the day’s exhaustion wash over her all at once—her conversation with Neal; that confused her even more; her parents showing her the beans, Regina…

And then there was this nagging in the back of her mind that kept reminding her of a certain one-handed pirate  that had gone missing.

She knew she shouldn’t have left him in New York; leaving him on a beanstalk was one thing—leaving him in a boiler room in a land he knew nothing of…

That might not have been the brightest idea she ever had. She groaned and rested her forehead on the steering wheel.

This was all just too much.

She was only human, for God’s sake—how much more were they going to throw at her, just to see if she could handle it?

She was broken from her thoughts by her cell phone buzzing—nearly making her jump through the roof of the car in surprise—against the dashboard.

Sighing, she answered the call with a bored, “Sheriff Swan speaking.”

“Emma?”

She sat up straight in bold surprise. “Jefferson?”

What the hell?

She hadn’t heard from him since… Since the curse broke.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, wondering if this was a serious call or if he just wanted to have tea with her again… Because really, the man might be good looking, but—no.

Just… No.

Besides, he had nothing on Ho—‘ _God damn it, Emma_ ,’ she scolded herself, ‘ _stop it!’_

“Well,” he started hesitantly, “I know you told me not to spy on people with my telescope anymore…”

She groaned and sagged back in the seat.

Oh boy.

“What did you see?” she deadpanned, not in the mood for games or teasing. Jefferson heaved a sigh on the other end and muttered, “Something’s going on at the town line—the trees kind of block my view, but I see two cars; they’re just standing there… Thought I’d call it in.”

Her eyes widened and she swallowed—this _was_ serious.

Damn. That. Town. Line.

“Okay, I’ll check it out—thanks, Jefferson,” she replied warily, only half listening to his muttered goodbye before she hung up.

She drove faster than she usually would have, but the memory of what happened the last time there was an ‘incident’ near the town line was burned into her mind, and she _really_ didn’t want anything else like that to happen.

She wondered who in their right minds would even go _near_ that damn line—everyone in Storybrooke knew what would happen if you were to accidentally step over it; especially after what happened to Sneezy and Belle. Briefly, she entertained the thought of Hook simply walking back into town—but that didn’t explain the cars that Jefferson mentioned. And more than that, he was Captain Hook—he loved making an entrance.

As she neared the town line, she stopped the car and bit her lip—maybe going alone wasn’t the smartest idea.

She pulled out her phone and called David, briefly explaining where she was and what she was doing, and to make sure he’d be quiet when he got there—she didn’t want to interrupt anything; August’s words were still stuck on replay in her mind, torturing her while she tried to figure it out.

_Storybrooke isn’t safe._

Maybe this was what he meant.

Maybe whoever was out there was the person he was trying to warn her from.

Slowly, and quietly, she got out of the car and pulled her gun from its holster—it never hurt anyone to be prepared, did it?

She had a bad feeling—something was really wrong here—as she moved down the road as quietly as she could, stilling when she heard voices—two voices.

Male and female.

She frowned—why did they sound so familiar?

She strained herself to hear what they were saying, but all she caught were a few loose, random words that made no sense on their own.

She’d need to get closer.

She crept around the corner, and nearly dropped her gun at the scene she walked in on.

That… Tamara? And… Greg?

Ewe.

Her eyes widened as the implications of what she was seeing hit her—Tamara was cheating on Neal with Greg; and she had been nowhere to be seen when August had gone missing.

Oh God.

She faltered slightly, watching as Greg and Tamara turned and headed for the back of the trailer, all while Emma’s head was still swimming with confusion; it couldn’t be, could it?

Tamara?

Had August been trying to warn them about Tamara?

She replayed his last words in her mind, wincing at the memory of his death that accompanied them.

_‘She’s…’_

But… Tamara?

Really?

She shook her thoughts off and decided that—since the trailer was now open and both Tamara and Greg were grinning like idiots at whatever was in there—now would be a good time to intervene and see what this was about.

“Tamara, Greg,” she said calmly—a whole lot calmer than she actually felt—stepping from behind the tree, “Hands in the air, where I can see them.”

Both of them froze; Greg looked positively horrified; and Tamara… Tamara looked _amused_.

What the hell?

“What are you two doing here?” Emma questioned, keeping her gun raised, as she approached them carefully.

“Just two old friends coming across one another,” Tamara said, a smile plastered across her face, “Can I lower my hands now?”

Emma swung her gun around, pointing straight at her chest. “No,” she growled, “You can’t. Was it you? Did you kill August?” Something flashed through Tamara’s eyes at that; only for a split-second; but it was all the confirmation Emma needed.

“You bitch,” Emma spat, “You better keep your hands high, or I will shoot—August was my friend.” Instead of listening to Emma, Tamara lowered her hands with a smirk. Emma was so focused on Tamara, she didn’t notice Greg until it was too late.

Her gun clattered to the ground as Greg jumped on her, holding a knife—that seemingly appeared out of nowhere—to her throat.

Tamara smirked and sashayed to the gun, picking it up slowly. Emma’s heart skipped a beat, and she wished that she had waited for David before stepping in. “You’re not going to get away with this,” she spat, wincing when Greg dug the knife a little deeper against her skin, “People are going to find out.”

“Oh please,” Tamara grinned, “No one will believe it—I’m just a sweet, innocent girl who fell in love with a _complicated_ man. You shouldn’t have come alone, _Sheriff_.”

Despite the fear that was twisting and churning in her gut, Emma rolled her eyes and smirked. “So what are you going to do? Shoot me? And then what? Do you really think people won’t ask questions? Questions that will eventually lead back to you?”

Her words didn’t seem to have any effect on Tamara, who aimed the gun and smiled at her cruelly. “Goodbye Emma. Nice to have met you.”

Emma swallowed thickly and closed her eyes, wishing that David would just hurry the fuck up—now would be a great time.

Everything happened so fast, she had no idea what was going on until the pressure on her throat suddenly let up as Greg stumbled back. She nearly tripped forward, breathing heavily.   
She turned, still dazed and confused, to see her father wrestling Greg to the ground, with some help from… Neal.

Neal?

What—how… How did he get here?

She was about to voice her confusion when a loud bang startled them all, Emma wincing, recognizing the sound of a gunshot.

But…

Her dad and Neal were in front of her…

Then… Who… Who stopped Tamara from shooting her?

Slowly, a horrible, sinking feeling in her gut, she turned around again, to where Tamara was sprawled out on the road—and she wasn’t alone. He was lying next to Tamara, his body eerily still. Panic flooded her senses, and she couldn’t even remember why she shouldn’t care about him.

Because she did.

She did care—that was why she left him, wasn’t it?

“Fuck,” Emma choked, stumbling forwards, falling to her knees next to the leather-clad and still-tied up pirate that she would recognize anywhere. Tears flooded her eyes before she could even begin to pull herself together and her hands were shaking.

“Hook? Hook, wake up,” she choked, a single tear running down her cheek. With shaking hands, she pulled the gag from his mouth, almost laughing in relief when he groaned softly, his eyes fluttering open slightly.

“Hi beautiful,” he breathed, and she laughed in relief, because he was okay—he was flirting; that equaled okay. She helped him sit up slowly, untying his hands—well, hand and currently, stump—as  fast as she could with her still shaking hands.

“Swan,” he stilled her hands with his hands, “Calm down—we’re okay. We both are.” She raised her gaze to meet his—and she snapped. She ignore his soft moan of pain and threw her arms around him, holding him so tightly, he believed she thought the world would end if she were to let go.

“Emma,” he whispered, “I’d enjoy this a lot more if you’d get these infernal ropes off of me.”

She choked back a chuckle and pulled away from him, nodding quickly as she began divesting him of the ropes that held him—Jesus, how much rope had they used? They almost wrapped him in it completely—as quickly as she could.

As soon as the last piece of rope fell to the road, Hook nearly jumped her, wrapping his arms around her so tightly, she knew he was never going to let go again. She wrapped her arms around him too, completely ignoring Tamara, who was moaning in pain on the road next to them, and David and Neal, who were probably staring by now.

She just gave into how good it felt to be in his arms, allowing herself to need him—even if it was just for this little while.

“God, you scared me,” she whispered, “I thought she shot you.” Subconsciously, her grip on him tightened as her voice nearly broke on the last word. Tears fought their way back to her eyes as she recalled how terrified she had been when she had thought she lost him.

“Shh, lass,” he cooed, his stump resting on the small of her back and his hand running through her hair, “I’m quite alright—you’ll need more than that to get rid of me.”

She half-chuckled, half-sobbed and buried her face in the crook of his neck, too overcome by her emotions to actually reply to that. Hook chuckled and pressed his lips to her hair, whispered, “Don’t cry, love. All is well now. There’s no need for tears.”

She managed to stop crying eventually, hiccoughing softly—Hook thought she looked adorable.

“There,” he said softly, wiping the remaining tears from her cheek with his thumb, “much better. Now I believe,” he glanced over her shoulder to where David and Neal were both glaring daggers at him, “we should move—I fear your father is contemplating how cross you would be if he cut off my other hand.”

She giggled, feeling inexplicably giddy as he pulled himself to his feet, before offering her his hand. She looked up at him, the intent behind the gesture not lost on her—he was offering a second chance; a chance they both needed before they could admit to feeling anything for the other.

Slowly and deliberately, she placed her hand in his, allowing him to pull her to her feet and straight into his arms—his hand disappeared in her curls as he pulled her forward, claiming her lips in a soft, sweet, gentle kiss.

Something sparked deep inside of her, warming her from the core until it radiated out, meshing with the heat that radiated from Hook and expanding around them. She broke the kiss, slightly dazed, and looked around, gaping when she saw the air around them sparkle.

Hook chuckled and pulled her back in for another short kiss, before pressing his forehead to hers. “I believe that means you are quite stuck with me now, love.”

She smiled softly, and for the first time in a long, long time, she didn’t feel the weight of the world rest upon her shoulders. She wrapped her arms around him, ignoring her father—who had grumbled, “A pirate? Really? Her happy ending’s with a pirate?”—and kissed him softly.

“I guess I am,” she muttered, “and you’re stuck with me.”

Hook smiled wolfishly and all but growled, “Oh, I can _definitely_ live with that.”

And then he kissed her again—and this time, they both swore that no matter what, they’d never let go or stop fighting again.


End file.
